


Awaken the Giant

by Varaen



Series: Emancipation Suite [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, GFY, I hate the piped tags but I hate the Sindarin names more, Rivendell | Imladris, We will all suffer together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varaen/pseuds/Varaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rossaen grows to adulthood. Gildor Inglorion drags a lost relative home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awaken the Giant

Rossaen was a merry child. The were no children in Imladris close to her age, which was not that unusual among elves, and while she did not particularly care for the older children, those younger than her held her fascination. From the time she reached adolescence, there was almost always a younger child or two by her side while she patiently taught them to play at marbles, catch the falling leaves in autumn and whatever else it was that children spent their time with while they were running about.

That is not to say that she neglected her studies. As the ward of Elrond and under his tutelage, Rossaen learned all matters of lore, from the tongues of elves and men to herb lore and statecraft she excelled at everything her teachers challenged her with.

She grew to be exceptionally tall, even by the measure of her kin. The red-header Tatyar, Noldor and Avari alike, had always been the tallest of all elven kindred, and Rossaen proved true to that heritage, rising above the tallest resident of Imladris by a hands breadth and as such standing more than two heads taller than the average Dúnedain when she had grown to her adult height.

As lighthearted as she was, there was often an air of melancholy about her. Most suspected that it was because of the tragic death of her parents, and few within the valley knew better. It had never been a secret to Rossaen that she was a reembodied Noldo, having been entrusted with that secret as soon as her childish mind could be trusted to keep it so. It had been a odd relief when she was young, to know that the night terrors that haunted her were memories, not visions. It also explained why some believed her a prodigy while her teachers simply took her quick grasp face value: Her teacher knew about her special case, and the others did not. Contrary to other children, she did not learn from scratch after all.

Over the course of her first yén, she learned more about her past. Some, she was told by Elrond and others who had known her before her death, who deemed it wiser not to let her delve into her past unprepared. Other things, she remembered by herself, piece by piece, until the whole tapestry unfolded before her mind’s eye. It was not much of a surprise. She knew her lore well, and there was no tall redhaired elf more infamous than Maedhros.

It was strange, to remember two different childhoods with such clarity, both exceedingly happy by any measure, but very different nonetheless. Before, there had only been memories of feelings and impressions, scattered moments of deep insight and an uncanny knack for almost anything that arose from her subconscious memories of having learned that once already.

All in all, she was content to leave her past to the past, enjoying the levity of her new life. She was free of the Oath, and almost all who might recognize her were Noldorin exiles as well, but even the few surviving Sindar from the First Age accepted that the Valar would not have returned her to Middle-Earth on a whim.

 

* * *

 

With adulthood came new responsibilities. Her unique situation would have qualified her for a position on Elrond’s council alongside Erestor, but that would only invite questions why one so young was advising her own teachers. Rossaen dedicated her time to the library instead. Written records had only become widespread after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, when too much knowledge was lost in the memories of the dead. In Aman, the Tengwar like the Sarati before them, had been considered a silly thought experiment, used only for love letters and similar trivialities. Why waste the time to write something down when memory served just as well? It was satisfying to see her father’s work finally appreciated, even if the reason was a mournful one.

The library had another advantage as well. As she expanded her studies, any time she referred to things she had learned in her old life, she could explain it away as something she had read in a book.

The ceaseless work of preserving the ancient scriptures, transcribing crumbling manuscripts and adding to the seemingly endless collection was soothing. From time to time, someone came by, looking for inspiration or simply something to divert their mind.

 

* * *

 

Summer turned to autumn and Gildor’s band of rovers returned to the valley once more. They brought with them a long awaited guest. It looked like he had been dragged bodily at least part of the way, standing as he did huddled into his tattered cloak in a demonstrative display of misery. Before he could change his mind and disappear again, Táranis led him from the courtyard and into her chambers.

“So you will come home for your brother, but not for me,” she said. She had known how prone he was to bouts of melancholy when they married, but six thousand years of self-imposed exile were a bit much, even for an elf. He stood unresisting in the middle of the room as she divested him of his threadbare clothes.

“Oh Laurë. What have you done to yourself?”

It was obvious that he had not been taking proper care of himself. His black hair hung in tangles and dirty strands down to the knees of his emaciated body and she could barely distinguish his freckles from the dirt on his skin. With a sigh, she fetched a bowl of water from her dressing table and threw the damp washcloth at him.

“Wash yourself before Elrond comes to see you. The poor man has suffered enough already, you should not ruin your reunion with your sorry state.”

“Will he be happy to see me?” Maglor croaked finally, his voice hoarse from disuse. Táranis smiled gently.

“Of course he will. We all are. We might have been happier had you shown up earlier, but you are here now. We will figure it out.”

A quick haircut later, clothed in borrowed trousers and a tunic, he looked almost presentable.

“Don’t thank me. Thank your sons. I knew what I was getting into when I married you.”

“You should be named Andreth, dear heart. I missed you. I am sorry. I should have come sooner.”

He crumpled into her arms, sobbing incoherently, purging millenia of grief and regret from his body.

 

* * *

 

They joined the others hours later, collars a little damp from another wash. Rossaen greeted them with a knowing smirk while Erestor and Elrond exchanged a look of long suffering. Maglor had not dared to imagine how he would be received when Gildor had coaxed him away from his wanderings, refusing to take no for an answer. To be welcomed like this was a wonderful surprise.

He had not realized, in all his wanderings, how much he left behind while drowning in self-pity. He may have explained it away, even to himself, as a penance, walking the shore and singing the Noldolantë until his voice gave out, and then some more. But especially now, as he was with them again, Maglor realized that he had hurt his family most of all.

“Will you stay with us, this time?” Elrond asked gently. Maglor could feel the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Of course I will. I should never have left in the first place,” he said, pulling all four of them into an embrace. “I missed you so.”

**Author's Note:**

> A yén is an elvish long year, 144 years of the sun. I use this as the age when elves come of age.
> 
> The long and rambly explanation why Rossaen has female pronouns here after male pronouns can be found here [on my tumblr](https://varaenthefallen.tumblr.com/post/145801985318/i-already-scratched-on-gender-roles-a-bit-in-my) in case you're interested.  
> TL;DR is basically that I headcanon all elves as genderfluid and they were working off old assumptions until Rossaen could correct them.


End file.
